


Stratagem

by suspectmind



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspectmind/pseuds/suspectmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aka vignettes; wyvern rider!Frederick edition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stratagem

**Author's Note:**

> thought process for this fic:
> 
> "i’m gonna reclass frederick. ooh he just said ‘i’ll always be a knight at heart’. i’m gonna imagine several different scenarios where the tactician convinces him to change classes, where power isn’t measured in meat-shieldiness but in potential and a hint of things to come and where cordelia and sumia are covering more ground than him and then when he does finally reclass, the exalt falls, and then capping it all off with him managing to save chrom from a life-threatening situation in which the rescue was only made possible by the class change"

“Just consider it.” was what she said.

The band she’d given him was silver with a curious blue glow, like nothing they’d encounter thus far in their travels. According to her, it was for unlocking potential power ‘otherwise sealed away.’ Whatever that meant. As he is now, Frederick is juggling keeping up with the Exalted family and their business in Regna Ferox, maintaining supplies, private training sessions with Lissa in addition to the newer recruits, scouting the trails ahead to ensure no petty injuries and the growing general disquiet about the looming war with Plegia. He cannot afford to simply change his ways now. 

He did, however, give her his word that he would think on it. Chrom has placed a lot of trust in one he’s only known for a short time, and he owes it to his prince to give her a more favourable judgement. Lady Emmeryn had trusted her implicitly because of his prince, after all. That, and he’s as impressed with her as his prince is.

He keeps the band in the pocket of his waistcoat, so as to not lose it. It may serve another member of their party better, if he has no reason to use it. Still, the way it presses into his skin is a goad.

\--

He remembers his mother when he sees Sumia and Cordelia in the distance. Though her mount was considerably less angelic in appearance, he remembers how she soared before having to retire and setting her Miledy free at Wyvern Valley. He’d only flown once or twice on the beast when he was young, before the terrible reign of the former Exalt had finally come to an end, before he was sworn in as one of the youngest recruits royally knighted.

Seeing them, he feels stationary, even as he’s cantering onwards, clearing a path for the princess and the Feroxi swordsman they’d recruited from Basilio. Hestia had told him to escort Lissa to the front lines once he could see the pegasus knights above the trees, then standby for orders. The sound of combat makes him quicken his pace and draw his lance. Better to clear the threat before leading the princess forward.

The count of Risen seems to have doubled in the past month alone, and Frederick is starting to fear for Chrom’s safety even in in camp. He hates that Hestia keeps separating him from his liege. His lances pierces the chest of an astray archer Stahl must have missed. The crumpled body falls to the floor of the forest, blood already congealing on the dirt and leaves. 

Two brigands approach and he resigns himself to strike out on and take a blow from the other. The blow never comes. Instead, the hears the whirr of an arrow and a sticky thump from next to him.

Virion jogs out from the trees, running a hand through his hair. He’s out of breath and there’s blood on his sleeve, though it doesn’t appear to be his.

“We’re overwhelmed! Hestia’s calling for you ahead!” he says. “Go, _go_! I’ll lead the Princess!”

Frederick is launches his horse into a gallop before the archer finishes the sentence, fearing the worst for the prince. What in _blazes_ had that damned tactician been thinking? The lives of villagers were important, yes, but not at the risk of the halidom’s prince.

He passes Sully losing her lance in two Risen bodies, Stahl at her back. There’s Risen blood on her cheek and armour. He whistles sharply, catching her attention, and tosses her his lance. 

“Much obliged!” she yells with a grin and goes back to raising hell. Frederick unsheathes his spare sword. Sully had always had a better handle on a lance than a blade, after all.

It takes a stronger arm and a longer reach to use a sword on horseback, but he wouldn’t be a knight if he wasn’t prepared. Fire catches his eye, like it always does. The charred corpse of a Risen fighter falls to the ground as Hestia hops off of Sumia’s pegasus. 

“Go keep an eye on Maribelle; make sure she’s not hurt.” She tells her, then rushes over to Frederick while Sumia lifts off. “Chrom’s on his own up ahead--” she says, climbing on the back of his horse. “There were a small group following him, let’s go.”

Frederick suppresses the urge to bark at her for her incompetence in favour of rushing down the path, following the congealed blood. He prays Chrom is safe.

\--

They approach the clearing just in time to find Chrom surrounded. Frederick’s still too far to reach, damn this sword, when one of the fighter’s lunge towards him.

A shadow drops between them and the Risen is knocked off his feet, impaled by a short spear. Cordelia hauls Chrom onto her pegasus and shoots into the air. Relief floods through Frederick, even as the Risen turn their blades to him.

Hestia hops off his horse, drawing her sword, and Frederick swears he catches the glimpse of a rather smug smile on her face.

\--

Of course, Frederick can’t prove Hestia had planned the entirety of the battle just so he would witness Chrom’s rescue. He’s sparring with the younger knights in the makeshift training grounds they’ve set up in the middle of camp, with Miriel observing on the corner of the ring, talking away with Maribelle and Virion over tea. The former was awaiting stewardship instructions, the latter merely there for the company.

“Sir Frederick.” Hestia calls. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

He takes a breath and turns to the soldier recruits wilting with the exhaustion of the day’s work. “Dismissed.” He tells them, and lets them collapse and scatter without jibes or orders.

He’s oddly aware of the onlookers when Hestia approaches him, wearing the smile she wears when she’s about pull off something extraordinarily unexpected. He...doesn’t like it so much when it’s directed at him.

“I want to have a word regarding the offer I brought forward a few weeks ago.”

 The band in his pocket presses against his skin. “What of it, milady?”

“Well, I know you’ve been having some trouble coming to a conclusion, so,” She digs into her pockets. “I am here with a bit of an...extra incentive.” She pulls out a silver band, identical to the one she’d given him. A second seal. “I would like to propose a _partnership_.”

Frederick elects to ignore the coughing fit Maribelle’s fallen into behind him.

\--

The armour is blue, darker than his own, and offers much less protection. His joints aren't held stiff and he has more mobility than before. His uniform reminds him of his mother. He’d left his horse in Ylisstol. He’d miss him. His new mount is named ‘Zeiss.’ He’s a little timid. 

He stands up straight and joins his hands behind his back. He’s still a knight at heart. He always will be.

\--

“Ahh, sir Frederick! Just the man I wanted to see!” 

The familiar lilt in the archer’s voice is teasing and entirely unwelcome, especially at this time of night. “Have the night watch tonight, do you, Virion?”

“Alas, no, sir. That would be Gaius and Panne.” Virion says, folding his hands behind his back in a vaguely mocking stance. “I am merely dropping in to greet you, my good man.”

Frederick fastens the braces on his forearms. “Is there a particular reason you’re bothering me right now, Virion?”

“Ah. Always straight to the point. Do you ever relax, Frederick? Well,” he waves a hand. “No matter. I was hoping to accompany you on your midnight excursion.” He follows Frederick out the mouth of the tent. “That is where you are going right now, is it not?”

“There is no need.” Frederick says, soothing Zeiss so the wyvern doesn’t wake the camp. He grumbles at being woken up, but gets up off the ground anyway.

“Ah, well. Not a _need_ , no. More of a request, really.” Virion clears his throat. “It has been far too long since I have had the opportunity to fly...I do miss it. Look,” he spreads his arms and spins around. “No bow, no arrows. Just the sword.” He smiles pleadingly.

Zeiss makes a curious sound next to his ear and Frederick sighs. “Very well. However,” He smiles icily. “I will expecting you to attend extra training on horseback, considering your riding leaves a lot to be desired.”

Virion winces, but it doesn’t deter him.

\--

It comes as a surprise that Virion seems oddly at ease on wyvernback. That, and he’s quite capable of being silent when he wants to be. There’s a lot about the archer that Frederick doesn’t know, and that is enough to justify his suspicion as far as he’s concerned. 

Frederick is gentle with his aerial manoeuvres, mindful of Virion at his back and the fact that Zeiss tends to screech when he’s excited. 

“I am surprised, Frederick,” Virion finally breaks the silence. “You have taken to your new role like a cygnet to water.” he laughs gently. “Pity I cannot say the same for Hestia. That black-eye must have healed by now.” 

Frederick half-listens to Virion spin a yarn about ‘roguish women’ this and ‘sonnets’ that, until the archer calls his name. “I was saying, before you so rudely drifted off, that the lady Maribelle could have sworn you had been proposed to.” he says. “Though I do not blame her! I had been there myself, after all, and seeing the pair of you speaking in such hushed tones about ‘partnerships’ and ‘proposals’, well. It is hard not to assume...things.”

“ _It isn’t_ \--I would _never_ \--”

“Ah, my good man. Sometimes you must take the gift life gives you. What is the phrase--“ He quickly mutters something under his breath-- Valmese?-- “Ah, ‘ _Let your heart rule your head_.’ Now, take the Lady Maribelle, for example...”

\--

Watching the Exalt fall breaks something in him.

\--

When Frederick was newly knighted, Chrom had attached himself to his hip, following him on patrols and badgering him for training sessions so that one day, he’d be able to ‘protect the castle singlehandedly.’ Once Lissa was able, she’d run around after him, playing swords and making ‘jewellery’ out of flowers. 

They’d often follow Frederick to the mess hall for meals and welcome him home when his duties took him away from the castle. He was the knight they’d requested every time they wanted to go to the markets. They would sometimes wake him while he’d slept in the guard tower barracks because of nightmares or boredom.

It been years since Chrom and Lissa had been young enough to not understand the meaning of ‘boundaries’. Years since Frederick had been gifted a bedroom inside the castle, near Phila and Exalt Emmeryn herself. Years since Frederick would shoo them out when it got too late or, alternatively, let them take the bed while he retired to the barracks.

He closes the door quietly behind him. Nevertheless, he knows they won’t awaken for some time. The exhaustion of travel from the day before, the finishing of a war and the long years of work ahead to ensure peace were taking their toll on the pair of them. That, and the tears shed from the grief of the Exalt’s death--

And the tears that _would_ be shed--

The castle is very quiet at this time of morning. There’s a peaceful air, like there had been before, but a hollowness in it. He stands for a moment in the castle gardens. There would be a statue built of the...former-Exalt, so everyone would know of her sacrifice.

He sits on a stone bench. The Exalt had been so devoted to peace during her reign. She was gentle and graceful and would nary lift a finger to hurt before she healed. She was a figure of hope for the people, and although reckless in her peacekeeping and often driving Phila to tear her own hair out with her placid nature regarding her own wellbeing, she was the leader they needed to mend the damage done by her tyrannic father. Frederick had lost his father to those senseless wars, but he never could blame the Exalted family. Least of all Emmeryn.

He loved her. 

He suspects everyone did. It was hard not to feel the genuine kindness and honest-to-gods good that exuded from every fibre of her being. She loved her family and her people so much that it had destroyed her in the end. 

Even with Zeiss, he hadn’t been strong, fast, _skilled_ enough to save her. To protect her like he’d been sworn to do. They didn’t even have a body to bury. 

“Oh--Frederick.”

He looks up, thinks about rising to greet her, but his bones feel heavy. “Good morning, milady.”

Hestia rubs her eyes. The circles underneath are darker than before. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early. Uh, not now that we’re not on the road anyway.” She’s blinking a lot.

“Forgive me, milady, but have you slept?”

She grimaces. “Not yet, no. I-I keep thinking.” she shakes her head, disappearing in thoughts Frederick can’t follow. Any other time, he would make the suggestion of perhaps heading to bed, lest she collapses. His jaw feels as stiff as his bones, however. “How are you holding up?” Her words feel like an echo.

Not long into his knighthood, the Exalt herself had handpicked him to serve as Chrom’s retainer, and one of the few knights she’d kept by her side during political meetings and otherwise. 

He remembers once, when he was new to his service, he had been accompanying her through the markets to greet the common folk. She’d been approached by a young girl, who Frederick would have shooed away had the Exalt not approached her first. On her arms, she wore rings of flowers and had presented one to her. Emmeryn had graciously kneeled to receive the crown, and stayed at the child’s level, ignoring the dirt on her clothes. She spoke for a while, then beckoned the child closer to whisper in her ear. 

She’d called him then, to kneel by her. “ _This is a very important knight in my castle, milady,”_ she had said. _“And I think he’d make a splendid prince. Don’t you_?”

The child had ‘crowned’ him too, with flowers, at Emmeryn’s encouragement. “ _You make a fine Prince, Sir Frederick._ ”

His vision starts to blur and he blinks before it can register that those are tears in his eyes. He hears Hestia move to stand in front of him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose when she pillows his head against her. He suddenly can’t stop the tears from falling because _Lady Emmeryn_ \--

They hadn’t even found her _body_ \--

He catches himself before the sobbing starts. A dreadful calm flushes through him. Chrom will need him now more than ever, and he’s no good to anyone if he mourns overmuch. 

He does, however, allow himself an extra moment of relief. The feeling of fingers carding through his hair is soothing like nothing before.

\--

It takes time, but Ylisse is united once again under a ruler, and for the first time in over a year, Ylisstol’s citizens are gathered in celebration. The wedding is a grand occasion, and sorely needed by the people. That something as beautiful as love blossoms despite the sorrow of recent passed events is truly a balm on the halidom’s soul. And a balm on Chrom’s own soul as well.

This up high, he can see everything going on down below. Chrom and his bride, Olivia are walking among the people, collecting their blessings and giving their own. She had requested a platform on which to dance for her people, and while Chrom had been reluctant due to the recent whispers of an assassination attempt on the Exalted family, he’d arranged what he could. 

They’d stationed Sully, Stahl and Gregor at the stage itself, with Virion and Lon’qu on higher ground. And higher up still, He and Cordelia circled overhead. Lissa was behind him today. With everyone’s attention on the wedding, a stray princess would be rather easy picking. 

Hestia had suggested it, and Lissa jumped at the chance to have a bird’s eye view of the ceremony. The tactician herself was riding with Cordelia. Something about having to ‘look after’ her on Chrom’s wedding day. Her tone made him wary about the picnic he’d agreed to go on with the pegasus knight.

“She’s so graceful,” Lissa sighs, watching Olivia take her first shy steps.

“Would you like me to get closer, my lady?”

“No, it’s okay. I can see fine from here.” she pauses. “Hey, Frederick?”

“Yes, milady?”

“Are you okay?” 

Frederick knows what she’s asking and smiles. “Your concern moves me, milady, though it is unwarranted. I am physically and mentally in top shape.”

“Well, yeah, but...”

“Worry not. Today is a joyous day. One of many to come, I’m sure.”

“I hope so.” Another pause. “Hey--Do you think I’ll ever get married?”

“Of course, milady. We would need to find a man worthy enough to wed you, but I’m certain--”

“What about you?”

Frederick frowns. She isn’t suggesting--

“Have you ever thought about marriage, Frederick?”

“I can’t say I have, milady.”

“But don’t you want a family, Frederick? A life?”

“My family is you and Prince Chrom, milady. I need no other life.”

She tsks and lightly raps her knuckles against his armour. “We’re gonna be here _anyway_ , Frederick! You’re kind of our favourite, remember?”

“I’m flattered, milady--“

“And what about Hestia?”

“Milady?”

“Does she not want to get married?”

Frederick feels his cheeks heat. He clears his throat. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask _Lady Hestia_ yourself.”

Lissa flushes. “Oh. My mistake, Frederick. She’s fond of you, so I just thought--”

“Think nothing of it, milady.” he says hastily to save them both any more embarrassment. 

\--

“ ** _Frederick_**!”

He slams a Risen into a tree and turns to the direction of the voice. Hestia has her blade in her left hand, cradling her sword arm to her chest. She’s staggering, she’s _injured_ \--

“ _Not me_.” she barks. “Chrom needs a rescue _. Go_ \--”

There aren’t any Risen left in this area, and Maribelle’s horse is neighing nearby, so he rises into the sky. Zeiss knows by now to hone in on his liege when he sees him. He wails when he spots him, propelling himself towards the one figure surrounded by Risen.

He swipes him up and Chrom grips the back of his armour to keep balance. 

Chrom sighs a breath of relief. “Thanks, Frederick.”

\--


End file.
